Let's Go
by DeandSeamus
Summary: Seamus isn't trying to pressure him. He's leaving himself open, encouraging. Dean understands. Seamus will let it go until tomorrow or the next day or never, but they both know if Dean speaks now he'll feel better. After all, he's with Seamus. Nothing bad can happen anymore.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter or Calvin Harris' song "Let's Go!"

**A/N:** Dedicated to Silver_Raven22 for the (inadvertent) request (as well as being a wonderful person ). If you enjoy, leave a review with a number 1-33 and I will write a new Deamus fic dedicated to you within 48 hours!

**Let's Go**

"Let's go." Seamus murmured closely into Dean's ear.

Dean nodded mutely and followed Seamus quietly through the rubble of the great hall to an unobtrusive staircase. As the pair began the journey to Gryffindor tower, Seamus' arm wrapped itself around Dean's shoulders.

Something was different about him. Of course, the war had changed them all. Seamus hadn't had time to talk to Dean about what had happened while he'd been on the run- not yet. Dean was definitely quieter. Harder. Somehow less… penetrable.

Once, on the stairs, Dean stumbled. Seamus stopped. Dean wasn't looking at him, but Seamus' gaze bored steadily into him. His hand moved from its place around Dean's shoulder slowly across his neck and gently held on his cheek. Dean's glance darted to meet Seamus' green eyes. Then his hand dropped and they both turned and continued up the stairs, arms brushing all the way up.

When they made it to their dorm, Seamus finally felt he was home. He'd been here all year, sleeping in his four poster, but with three empty beds the place hadn't felt the same. Now there was sunlight streaming through the window and, better still, Dean was here. There was no place Seamus would ever be home without Dean.

Dean didn't feel so far from home himself.

They sat together on Dean's bed, the way they always used to. It had been (nearly) untouched all year (but for Seamus' quiet longing) and bore few poor memories for them. Dean's eyes wandered, but Seamus was focused; he had seen everything in this room for too many hours over the past year. He wanted to look at the one thing he'd missed (more than he'd missed anything else in his life).

It was almost involuntary when he raised his hand once again to Dean's face. Instantly Dean flinched away. When he realized that it was just Seamus and not an attacker, he dropped his gaze distractedly to the duvet. Seamus raised both his hands, and cautiously held them to Dean's head. Dean stayed put, eyes averted, darting anywhere but at Seamus. Seamus threw his arms around his friend and dragged him close into a hug, burying his face in his neck. One of his hands was tightly clutching at Dean's back, the other twisted into his hair. Overwhelmingly slowly, he felt Dean respond, hands sliding up Seamus' back and drawing him in.

They sat that way for a long time. It wasn't just a moment that felt like forever; it was so long that Seamus' arms began to ache. He fell back, allowing his arms to fall into his lap. Dean still refused to look at him for more than a second at a time. Roughly and suddenly Seamus grasped his chin and forced Dean to face him. Dean's eyes fluttered half-shut, staring down at Seamus' white shirt to avoid his eyes. Seamus huffed in frustration, dropping Dean's chin and scrubbed his face with his hands.

"I've been waiting for months to see you and now you can't even look at me."

Dean bit his lip anxiously.

Seamus sat in anguished silence.

Dean reached for his hand.

When Seamus stared at him, warm chocolate eyes stared back.

Dean swallowed.

Seamus couldn't drop his gaze if he'd tried.

Slowly (so very excruciatingly slowly) Dean raised his hand to Seamus' cheek. He traced his cheekbones and the curve of his jaw. Seamus' eyes fluttered as he leaned into the light touch.

"I… So much has happened" Dean whispers, and Seamus doesn't know if it's for him or for just a thought out loud.

"So tell me about it." Seamus murmurs, and for Dean it's comforting and terrifying all at once.

"Can't… can we just wait for tomorrow?" Dean begs, words rough past the rising lump in his throat.

Seamus considers this, he really does. He sees the frustration and the horror behind Dean's eyes, and decided he knows what's best for his friend.

"Tomorrow's good… but tonight is better," he says with a small grin, and to his immense relief Dean smiles slightly back.

"It's not about what you've done, or where you've been, it's about where you're going and what you're doing _now_. With me."

Dean's eyes close and his breaths flutter for several moments before he nods. Seamus isn't trying to pressure him. He's leaving himself open, encouraging. Dean understands. Seamus will let it go until tomorrow or the next day or never, but they both know if Dean speaks now he'll feel better sooner. After all, he's with Seamus. Nothing bad can happen anymore. He sinks back into Seamus' arms, nuzzling into his chest the way he's been missing for so long.

"I didn't end up being alone for long, after I left. A man called Ted Tonks found me…"

Seamus' arms tightened, and, for once in his life, he sat quietly and listened to Dean's story. All the way through.


End file.
